Hooked on a Feeling
by This Is My Escape
Summary: Recently dumped, Emma goes to the bar to numb her broken heart. When she awakes the next morning, she finds herself in the bed of New York City's most eligible bachelor and her heart in the hands of someone she isn't sure she wants to have it.
1. The Meeting

**For those of you who have followed me over to an entirely new fandom, I thank you for your loyalty. For those of you who have never heard of me before and you're a new reader, welcome! New or old, I hope you enjoy this little tale as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Captain Swan shares a lot of the same traits that got me hooked (no pun intended) on Delena in The Vampire Diaries. CS is truly something special, so of course I had to write about them. This story is AU/NO MAGIC. There will be romance and language that earns the M-rating, and there will be angst because I do so love it. And thank you to my wonderful friends, Sandra and Morgan for their beta skills and enthusiasm. I wouldn't have had the courage to post without you, ladies! Welp, I think I've talked enough. Happy reading! ~Kate**

* * *

Emma can finally say she knows what they're talking about when they say the worst pain ever felt is that of a broken heart.

The organ in her chest is tugging, pulling, and twisting and she's having trouble pulling air into her lungs.

She's just barely able to get her question out, asking why he did what he did; her throat so tight her words sound garbled and she isn't sure he understands after minutes of silence. Her eyes are stinging and her vision is beginning to blur. She's prepared to ask her question again.

He looks over his shoulder and before shutting the door behind him, he speaks.

"I'm sorry, Emma."

He'd heard her question after all.

* * *

Two hours have passed since that moment. Two hours since the moment Neal had made her feel as though he'd reached into her chest and ripped out her heart, and the only thing that burns worse than the tears burning in her eyes is the alcohol scorching her throat. It's at that moment she thinks about something her father, David, had once told her: booze and depression make for a nasty combination. Yeah, well…the booze is helping to numb it, easing the pain into a dull throb rather than a searing tearing sensation beneath her sternum. She'll deal with the ramifications later.

Her body feels warm, and her arms feel tingly thanks to her new friend Jack Daniels. She lifts her empty glass into the air, wanting a refill and beaming at the handsome bartender who immediately grants her request.

"Thank you kindly," she tells him, and is about to unhinge her jaw to swallow another shot when the glass disappears from her grasp. "What the hell?"

A low, sexy chuckle sounds from behind her back and then her thief speaks to her, sitting in the stool next to hers.

"Sorry, darling. I'm feeling a bit thirsty myself."

She isn't sure if it's actually his voice or if the liquor is starting to mess with her, but it's enough to catch her attention. She raises her head and is met with pale blue eyes and nearly drowns when they suck her under. She has to blink a few times in order to snap out of it and when she does, she levels him with a glare. He stole her drink! "I understand you tried to steal my drink, but guess what?" She leans in to whisper in his ear. "You fail." She snatches her shot glass back, pleased that he hadn't emptied it yet, and knocks it back, ignoring the tingles she feels when he laughs.

"I gave it back, did I not?"

"I took it back."

"Either way, it gives me the opportunity to talk to a beautiful woman like yourself."

"Wow," she laughs and the sound nearly dies in her throat when his gaze darkens three shades. "Do you use that line on all the ladies?"

"Believe it or not," he says as he stares at her, his eyes bright and boring intensely into hers. She squirms in her seat. "It isn't a line, but the truth. An honest conversation is all I wanted but then I saw the look on your face and it was one I wanted to rid you of."

She frowns at that. She's always careful about not showing her emotions, especially in front of strangers so why is he any different? "There wasn't any look on my face."

"I hate to break it to you, darling," he smiles again and her heart jumps, "but you're something of an open book."

"Oh, really?" She is thankful her voice sounds stronger than she feels. She is always so careful. "Then read me."

He stares at her a long moment, and then the thieving stranger's brows dip. His gaze drifts over every inch of her face before meeting her line of sight. "Well, I'd wager something happened. It would explain why you're here alone, and the way you stared at each glass before consuming it. Heartache is my first guess, though it could be something a little more morbid, like a death. God forbid, of course. In any case, I can tell you are in no mood for friend-making."

She scoffs. "_Friend_-making?"

"Among other things." Another smile (though tilted this time in its lazy quirk) leads to another jumping of her heart. She watches his Adam's apple bob up and down as he asks, "What's your name, beautiful?"

The more he talks the more she wants him to. He definitely has an accent, smooth like honey and nearly melting her from the inside out. Warmth shoots to her lower belly that has nothing at all to do with her tipsiness.

"Emma Swan."

"Pleasure, Miss Swan." He twists a ring around his finger before offering his hand out to her. As she slips her hand into his, and their hands connect, a spark jolts through them though he doesn't let go. If anything he holds onto her hand tighter and rubs his thumb over the back of her palm.

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" she gulps, beginning to feel her shots catching up to her.

"Many call me Hook."

"Interesting nickname, _Hook. _Mind if I ask why you go by something other than your real name?"

He merely gives her a lopsided grin, and then orders them each another round of drinks. Suddenly she finds herself having trouble remembering why she'd been upset in the first place.

* * *

Light pours into the room, and the first thing Emma does is bury her face further into the pillow, and throw her arms out across the mattress. A groan fills her ears and she freezes. The sound hadn't come from her, and her left harm is resting on something hard. Lifting her head and looking to the side she finds Hook raising a hand to his forehead and wincing.

"Bloody hell, my head."

No, no, no, she couldn't have...

"Well hello there, beautiful. You're still here?"

"I don't ever do this," she promises quickly. She was _not_ one to have one-night-stands. "I mean, I have, but I don't usually…shit, sorry. I'm gonna go."

She watches Hook open his eyes again as a laugh bursts from his lips. He quiets when she wraps the sheets tight around her and moves to climb out of bed. "I'm quite certain this was mutual, darling. Don't apologize, and definitely don't leave."

He sits up and grabs her hand while she has to force her eyes to stay locked on his face – his bed sheet has slipped giving her a stunning view of perfectly carved muscles. _Focus, Swan._ "I'm trying to make it out of here relatively unscathed and you're dragging it out…why?"

He grins. "Maybe I enjoy your company."

At that moment she sighs, and pulls her hand out of his. She instantly feels the loss and redirects her attention to finding her clothes. One of her socks is at the foot of the bed, her other still on her right foot. Her bra's hanging on one of the posts, and she vaguely remembers Hook flinging it behind him, before ripping her panties off her body with his teeth and throwing them toward the other bedpost. She quickly grabs both, puts them on and climbs down from the elevated mattress to grab her blouse that's currently lying splayed across the floor.

"The last time this happened," Emma says as she slips into the fabric, "the guy was so blitzed he didn't wake up. So either you didn't have as much as I did, or you can handle your liquor better."

"We both know I can handle a lot," he answers easily, his lips teasing a smirk and she feels her cheeks burn. Memories of the night before are slowly returning and she has no doubt about his cocky response. "What do you say to eating breakfast with me, love?"

"You want to turn this one-night into a date?"

"Why not?"

"Because, well because…" she splutters, hating the fact that she sounds like some kind of bumbling fool as she fumbles with her buttons. "It's called a one-night-stand for a reason! You don't go out after a one-night stand, Hook."

"Again, I ask why not? It's clear we share something." When she doesn't answer, he smiles. "Aye, I knew you felt it too."

"'Aye?' What are you, a pirate?"

"My father was a fisherman, and I spent a lot of time aiding him in his efforts. I suppose I never lost the terminology he used on his ship…" A sad expression crosses his face, turning his blue eyes grey and she knows what he means by wanting to rid him of that look. She wants to wipe it away and replace it with that knee-knocking smile.

"Is that the reason for the nickname 'Hook?'" she asks, hoping that if they're going to spend the rest of the day together that she'll at least be able to know the real him.

Unfortunately, he isn't that forthcoming and she still can't get her damn blouse buttoned, realizing that she's been grasping at silky material for the last three minutes. "Dammit! I'm missing buttons."

Hook grins wolfishly. "Looks as though it's my turn to apologize."

* * *

Thankful for the well-fitting shirt Hook has lent her, the two step into the crowded restaurant. Hook grabs her hand and she notices none of the staff bother to stop him. She wonders if he works there. Or had at one point. Soon they're seated at a booth in the back of the house, next to the kitchen.

"Nicely done," Emma says. "No wait time."

"There wasn't a reason to wait when you've got strings like I do. So, Emma…"

"May I take your order?" a woman asks, walking up to the table holding her notepad and pen. She's waiting at the ready. "We have a fabulous –"

Hook looks mildly annoyed, but remains as polite as he's been with Emma. "We aren't ready to order just yet, but we'll take two hot chocolates with whipped cream. Sprinkle cinnamon on the top?"

"Sure thing, I'll be right back."

With that, the petite little brunette scurries off and Emma's having difficulty with picking her jaw up off the ground.

"I'm sorry, do you not like cinnamon on your chocolate? I'll bring her back…"

She blinks herself out of her stupor and nods furiously. "I do, actually, but I've never met anyone else who shares my taste."

"Until now."

There's a grin on his face that pulls one from her. "Until now. So…are you ever going to tell me your name?" Emma asks. "Your real one?" Hook looks down and fingers one of his rings. She remembers him doing that at the bar the night before. Was that one of his tells? Was he nervous? "Hook?"

He sighs heavily, but his lips quirk upward. "If you insist on knowing my less colorful moniker, fine. I'll tell you." He gives a small shrug and holds out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Emma. Killian Jones."

She visibly blanches, trying to understand how she could have fallen into bed with none other than one of the city's most eligible bachelors. There are flyers and posters with his name and face plastered on every corner. Last night he'd been devilishly handsome with his scruffy appearance, and the alcohol had made her fuzzy so it made sense that she didn't recognize him, but holy hell! She'd slept with Killian Jones!

"You've heard of me."

His calm reaction makes Emma wonder if he's out of his ever-loving mind. Her cheeks burn as she realizes what they've done. He's risking everything by spending time not working on his campaigns. It's the middle of election season and he's running for mayor. She isn't anything special, so what in God's name is he doing with her?

"I was afraid of that look."

"What look?" she counters, trying to force her face into a neutral countenance. "There's no look."

"Oh, sure there is. It's the one you're sporting this second and it's telling me you're going to run in thirty seconds unless I stop you." He reaches across the table and places his hand on hers. Softly, he tells her, "I'm not embarrassed, Emma. I don't know why you think I would be but I'm not."

"I'm not –"

"I told you," he says, releasing her hand and taking the mug that the waitress has dropped off at that moment. "An open book."

Just then her phone begins to ring, and she glances at the screen, knowing that Hook…_Killian's _seen her frown. She doesn't want to answer her phone and quickly presses the call away. No use in trying to pretend otherwise. She doesn't want to talk to Neal. He had said everything he'd needed to say to her when he walked out her door yesterday. If he's realizing his mistake, then that's just too damn bad.

"I'm poor," she blurts out, not knowing why her mouth is betraying her and gripping her mug so tight her knuckles are nearing white. "Jesus, I mean…I'm not _poor, _poor. But I'm not…"

"Ah," His brows furrow. "And that's why you're embarrassed. You think you're not good enough."

"No, that's not –" she swallows. "I just don't understand what you're doing here. Of all the women in this city, Hook…you chose to spend your night in bed with someone nowhere near your class level."

He surprised her by laughing. It's a full, deep, belly laugh and it almost makes her smile. "If you haven't noticed, out of all of New York City's women, yes, Swan, I did choose. I may have been intoxicated last night but my now-sober eyes are set firmly on someone, darling."

So she figures this is a pity date. He's interested in someone else, not her, just like she'd originally thought. He really was just trying to be friendly, to make sure that she wouldn't go running to the press about her romp in the sack and ruin his chances to become mayor. It makes perfect sense to her now so she nods, and reaches for her purse, annoyed by the pang of disappointment she feels.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I know when I'm being bribed."

"Excuse me?" he gawks, and she swears she sees hurt flash in his confused expression. "I'm not –"

"Sort of. With pleasantries and breakfast. Look, we fucked," she whispers, careful so no one else can hear. "And it was good, great even, but now that the night's over you've got a reputation to uphold. You don't have to worry, alright, I won't tell anyone." She throws her cross-body over her shoulder. "Thanks for the shirt, I'll have it dry-cleaned and sent back to you. Have a good afternoon, Mr. Jones."

Emma rushes out of the restaurant before he can convince her to stay, or worse, make her feel like she hadn't had the best night – and morning – of her life in years. Neal had been a boyfriend, a longtime one of four years. But their nights had grown stale, his loyalty shaky. She'd questioned infidelity but before she could question him on it, he'd gone off and kicked her to the curb but not before confirming her suspicions.

She can't possibly believe what she's feeling now is anything close to heartbreak. She'd barely known Killian Jones for five minutes before she'd ended up in his bed and yet she can't shake the tugging in her heart, the feeling that she should turn around and go back to him but she can't give it another thought.

She won't.

It's pointless because no matter what happens once she's back inside with him, she'll be reading in the paper that he's either won or lost the election, sure that either way he'll attend the gala coming up in a couple of months with a stunning woman on his arm dressed in Versace and a Cartier piece draped along her neck. She knows his date will be clinging to him and Hook will be promising the same charming, sweet nothings in her ear as he had the one night they'd spent together.

That woman sure as hell won't be her. She doesn't fit the classical, radiant type that's required for a politician on the rise.

So she ignores the tightness in her throat, waves for a cab and goes home.

* * *

_Three Weeks Later_

How in the hell is she supposed to focus on this upcoming interview when she can't get rid of the tectonic-sized plates shifting around in her skull?

Emma has scored an interview with City Hall, and the irony isn't lost on her. She needs this job, because being a bondsman just isn't cutting it anymore. The salary's decent, but she's not happy. She'd rather feel like she was doing a service, even if it's taking phone calls and making appointments to meet with the mayor.

Correction: the _new_ mayor.

Her head throbs again and she knows she needs to just get it over with. No more stalling.

"Ruby," Emma calls, rubbing her forehead and waiting for her headache medicine to kick in while she stares down at her calendar. "Ruby!"

"Jesus, what?" her friend answers from the other side of their apartment. Your headache is never gonna go away if you keep screaming."

Ruby Redding is her best friend, and has been for over a decade, and if she hadn't already, she'd more than proven her title since Neal had literally walked out of her life.

"I need you to do me a favor."

"And what is that?"

She clenches the date booklet in her hands and clears her throat. "I need you to run to the drugstore."

"Well, which one? CVS?"

"Sure," she answers. "Doesn't matter which one. They all carry what I need."

"Which is…"

Emma swallows thickly, still unable to believe it. She's late. Her period always arrives like clockwork, but this month it hasn't and she's a week behind schedule. It would make sense if she's just stressed. Stress could cause a disruption in a monthly cycle. She hopes that's the reason because she cannot be a mother. She'd been thinking about having kids with Neal – douchebag that she now realizes full and well he truly is.

Word on the street is that he's been thrown in the slammer for a five-finger discount at Mr. Gold's Jewelers. It would've explained his phone call a few weeks ago, but she'd ignored it. For which she's now grateful. That day had been full of just _bad _and not because of a man who had broken her heart, but because of one who'd managed to sew it together and then rip it open again in less than twenty-four hours' time.

Emma never slept around, and she hadn't with anyone else since that night. There's only one person she has to worry about if what's going on with her is not due to stress.

"Emma?" Ruby waves her hand in front of Emma's face, staring at her with a look of worry. "What is it that you need me to get?"

"A pregnancy test."

* * *

Emma heads in for her interview later that afternoon, and the sound of Hook's voice does dangerous things to her heart, and other parts of her anatomy.

"…I don't see why that's necessary," she hears him say. "I have to go now. Yes, I'm doing something important. Milah, I can't talk right now. Yes, I know I did and I'm sorry for that but you must learn to let go." She winces. Is Milah someone else he'd hurt? He sounds sincere in his apology but his word choice isn't the greatest. "I said no, Milah. Goodbye now. Emma, you can come in."

Jumping at the sudden name change, and then cursing herself for letting herself be heard (she should have controlled her nervous habit of tapping her feet better), she walks into his office.

"Hello, Miss Swan. Go on and shut the door."

She does as she's told and stands there, feeling every bit as awkward as the situation really is.

"I wouldn't even be trying for this job if I didn't need it so bad."

Hook chuckles. "You're lucky it's me you're saying this to and not the original interviewer I had lined up to question you."

"What?" she gasps. "There was someone else doing this?" He must truly enjoy her suffering, she decides as he continues to stare at her with amusement alight in his blue irises. She needs to tell him. She doesn't even know for sure, but he deserves to know if there's a possibility he's going to be a father.

"Well, something told me I wouldn't want to miss the look on your face when you found out –"

"I'm late," she blurts out.

He laughs and shakes his head. "On the contrary, love. You are right on time, actually," he looks down at his watch, "you're a few –"

"No," she huffs. Bad timing. "I mean, I'm _late_…with the lady stuff." She watches as the color begins to drain from his face and stumbles backward. "Hook!" she rushes forward. "Easy." He mumbles something, and she guides him down into one of the two chairs by his desk while asking him to repeat what he said.

"My name. It's Killian," he breathes before snapping out of it and gripping her arms. "Emma."

"Yeah," she says, staring at him like he's a crazy person. A few seconds pass before he drops his hold on her and then steps around her, away from the desk, and away from her.

Her face falls. She knows perfectly well he's not happy about it. Not that she'd expected him to be happy, of course. Nodding her understanding, but not wanting to stick around to hear him reject her out loud, she bolts before he can.

"Swan!" he shouts after her, but she can hear his quick footfalls looming closer. He's hot on her heels, and she just wants to escape any further embarrassment so she quickens her pace through the hallway and down the stairs. And she almost succeeds in escaping until she hits the last step and trips. Strong arms wrap around her before she can hit the ground and his voice is in her ear as he growls. "Would you just wait?"

"Why?" she hisses, not wanting to draw attention from the onlookers but failing anyway. "You don't have to say anything. _The look on your face_ says it all."

He grimaces and she almost feels bad until she _does_ feel bad when he speaks his next words. "You ran out of there so bloody fast, you didn't exactly give me the chance to respond."

He helps Emma to her feet and she allows herself to enjoy his hands on her again for the short time it takes for her to have her balance back. "Emma, you've just dropped a bombshell on me. And it's the size of a Tsar. Aside from the fact we don't even know if you _are_, the mere statement threw me for a loop. Are you all right?"

"I should be asking you that. You almost passed out."

"I am, but are you? You could have sprained an ankle."

"Yes, I'm fine. Hook –"

"_Killian," _he implores. "Please."

"I'm a week late." She pushes her bangs out of her face. "I've been stressed from trying to snag this job. It's probably that, but we also slept together. I'm not on the pill so…"

He nods, understanding. "We need to know." He takes her hand again, and if anyone else would choose that moment to walk in on their conversation, they'd never know he'd almost lost consciousness by the way he looks now. Strong, and in control. "By the way, it goes without saying, but the job was yours the second I learned you were vying for it."

She smiles guiltily at him.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Thank you," she mumbles quietly, correcting her expression per his request. "Look, before I came here I had my friend buy me a test, but I was so nervous then that I put it away instantly. It's in my purse."

"Well, come on then."

Emma lets him thread their fingers together as they go back into City Hall and head for the restrooms.

* * *

Three minutes later, Killian leads Emma back to his office, the test in her pocket. "Well?" he asks as soon as Emma steps inside and he shuts the door.

"Stress of the new job, I guess." A smile spreads over her face. "False alarm."

"Aye, I suppose so." He's surprised to feel a pang of disappointment, but quickly masks it. He sifts a hand through his hair. The day's nearly over, and he's sure Emma hasn't eaten yet. Her stomach had growled when he'd caught her staring at the vending machine when she stepped out of the bathroom with the plastic test in her hand. "Are you hungry, Emma?" He watches as she tosses the stick in the trashcan. "Would you care to join me for dinner?"

"Can we just go to one of our houses?" She feels his presence and walks to the window. "I'm exhausted, and honestly would rather get takeout."

"If that's what you want, that's what we'll do." He doesn't even try to stifle his smile, and is about to ask her if she'd consider going out with him on another occasion, to the gala, specifically, when his phone begins to ring. Cora's name flashes across the screen.

"Who's Cora?" She's seen the screen too.

"_She_ is my ex-girlfriend's mother." He holds the ringing phone in his hand but makes no other move, to ignore it or otherwise. "I wonder what she wants."

"Well, don't not answer on my account," Emma tells him. "Go ahead and take it."

He pauses another moment, debating on answering. He can't stand the woman, never had been able to and now that his relationship with her daughter is over, he's going to have to do his best to keep the disdain out of his voice. Right before it hits the final ring, he holds the devices up to his ear. "Jones."

"_I've got great news for you."_

He looks at Emma who's checking her own messages on her cell. "And what, pray tell, is that?"

"_Milah misses you. Last night she was talking about how she's willing to take you back. She wants you back, Killian."_

He nearly laughs. Back? He'd been the one to break it off with her. And after what he thinks he's found with Emma, quick as it has happened, there's no way he's going to put any of that at risk. "It's good to hear from you, Cora. I've already talked with her. So if you'd please, tell Milah I'm sorry but I left for a reason. We weren't right for each other."

"_But –"_

"No, Cora. It's finished." With that he hangs up, and leans against his desk. "That carried on far longer than intended."

"It was a two minute conversation."

A corner of his mouth turns up. "Far longer than intended," he repeats. "My apologies."

"No apologies are needed." She watches the look of gratefulness pass through his gaze and he takes a step near her, pausing when she asks, "was Milah the woman you were talking about that day in the restaurant? The woman you had your eyes set on?"

"No, not at all." He brings a hand and reaches for a tendril of her golden locks. "In fact, the only woman I have eyes for is standing before me."

Her lips curl into something of a smile and she swallows. "Oh."

A small chuckle escapes his own lips and he nods, continuing to finger her hair and enjoying the way her breath hitches when his touch changes target, and his thumb traces her jawline. "Aye, Miss Swan. Oh."

* * *

**Well, there it is! The first chapter. I do have this thing loosely outlined, but I'm not entirely sure how many chapters it's going to be. If you want to make me happy (like STUPIDLY happy), please leave a review. See you next chapter! ~Kate**


	2. The First Day

**Wow! Talk about a warm welcome. Thank you! :) Sorry for the small delay but I'm moving to Florida on Friday and I'm super excited about it. I've been busy packing and mentally preparing BECAUSE I'M GOING TO DISNEY WORLD! Literally! I will be working at Disney! *happy dances and throws confetti for myself because I'm lame but ****too**** excited to care* **

**Not only do I have to give you all big thanks for a warm welcome, but I have to give thanks to my wonderful friend/beta. She faithfully checks over everything and then goes into the nooks and crannies of each chapter to make sure it's update-ready. Also, thank you goes to those who took the time to leave a review. You have no idea just how far one or two words of praise goes. *tosses out virtual cookies to you* **

**This is such a long author's note, but I'm almost done, I swear! I should probably mention that I have a twitter: _ThisIsMyEscape, so feel free to follow me on there. I post spoilers about the stories I write and I've been told I'm an entertaining live-tweeter when my favorite shows are on, so there's that! **

**Anyway, I've made you all wait long enough for this chapter. On with the story! Happy reading! ~Kate**

* * *

Emma is up an hour before her alarm goes off. Aside from it being her first day of work, she's feeling antsy about what sort of boss Killian Jones is going to be. It's Tuesday morning and he's asked her to start working right away, giving her little time to mentally prep. Being a secretary really isn't that daunting, she knows this, but that isn't what she's worried about. It's who she'll be working for, the blue-eyed brunette who has the power to make her a quivering mess with a single glance. Her hair loosely curled past her shoulders, she throws open her closet and pushes the shirts and blouses she's got hanging to the other side until she finds what she thinks she's looking for.

Fifteen minutes and four outfits later, Emma's decided on what to wear: a navy blue blazer and a jet black pencil skirt with nude flats. The shade of her shoes matches her skin tone and it makes her legs look a mile long, and though she wishes she could wear heels, Killian had been right. When she got home from City Hall yesterday, the adrenaline from running into him had worn off, and with it, the numbness for what had kept her from feeling one serious twisted ankle. She would have iced it except the apartment superintendent hasn't fixed her freezer yet. She wasn't able to make ice cubes when the damn box was warmer than 50 degrees Fahrenheit, let alone 32.

It may be bit precarious for a job where she'll be sitting behind a desk in a building full of conservative politicians to want to wear heels, but what's that old adage? Dress for success?

Oh, well. Flats until her ankle isn't the size of a golf ball.

Emma's much too anxious for work to prepare breakfast without ruining it, so instead she settles for toast and hot chocolate. It's chilly for January and the thick drink will keep her full until noon. She tries not to think about where (or whom with) she'll be spending her lunch hour. After his startling confession the day before, she told him she wanted to keep things professional. He merely smirked at her with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes and she knew he was going to make working for him difficult.

And that's why she's worried now.

She has a good feeling about him. At least, that he'll be a good superior and won't be a first-rate asshole boss. It's his flirty personality that she's sure is going to get her into trouble (she doesn't bother to examine what sort of, but it will be trouble for sure).

After rinsing out her ceramic mug she puts it on the dish rack to dry, slips her shoes on and instead of using gas and driving her bug to work, she hails a cab. She isn't worried about traffic. Why would she be worried when she doesn't have to be there for another two hours?

* * *

Her new co-workers start filing in about an hour and a half after she gets there, and she envies them because her anxiety refused her restful sleep. She's never, ever been nervous but here she is: 100% nervous and 100% afraid of fucking up. It's that damn English beauty that's keeping her from relaxing…

And he's not even here yet.

"So, you must be the newbie?" Her head whips to the side of her desk and a handsome, albeit young man is standing in front of her. "Swan, Emma?"

"Uh. Yeah, that's my name on paper but in person it's the other way around," she laughs and shakes the hand that's offered to her. "First day. And you are?"

"Humbert, Graham." He smiles and she immediately feels the tension fade away. He's got warm, dark eyes and a gentle smile.

Another man steps next to him and gives her a devilish grin. He's got dark hair, the same as Killian's she realizes, and the same blue eyes but lacks that spark that captivates her. "Well, aren't you a pretty thing."

She rolls her eyes, but isn't offended in the least. She goes to tell him she's flattered, but –

"Jefferson, you're going to frighten the girl."

That voice. Instantly she tenses, but it isn't her shoulders or her spine, it's the muscles near her core and she swallows hard before slapping on a bright smile and turning the other way until Killian is the one in front of her.

"Morning, boss." Emma greets him with a wave and when he thinks Jefferson and Graham aren't looking, Killian sends her a wink and she blanches.

"You've got him wrapped around your finger already," Graham grins before throwing an arm around Jefferson's shoulder and waggling his brows at Emma and Killian. "Come on, Jeff. Let's give these two some alone time."

Jeff mumbles something and she watches his mouth move. She's always been a decent lip-reader and it looks like he's saying something along the lines of "lucky bastard." She feels her cheeks warm and while she's not interested, she's still flattered that he's taken an interest. She makes a mental note to (as politely as possible) inform him of the rule that she's just decided to make for herself:

No dating co-workers.

Before he speaks, she can feel his presence, reminding her that she needs to stick to that rule like she's made of glue.

"How are you this frigid, January morning?" Emma looks up and is instantly caught off guard by the look in his eyes. "F-fine, just fine," she splutters, and is thankful she thought to grab a paper cup and fill it with water before sitting it down. What the hell is she doing? She's not normally a bumbling fool. This is the second time she's acted as such! _Get a grip Emma, _she tells herself. She takes a gulp and is sure he knows she's acting like a bumbling fool when he asks, "is everything alright? You don't seem entirely like yourself today."

_How does he know what I normally act like? He doesn't know me well enough to know anything about how I normally act! _

"Yeah, yep," she answers quickly and mentally bashes her head against the wall at the hasty response. Part of her regrets taking this job and it's been less than twenty-four hours since starting. "How about you?"

"Doing well," he smiles. "If you don't mind, I have a few favors to ask of you. I have a few meetings today, one starting at eleven, and would be grateful if you took messages from anyone looking to speak with me. They're important and I can't afford to be pulled out of them in order to take a call."

"Sure thing," she says and gives him a thumbs-up.

_A thumbs-up? Who the hell does that anymore?_

"Um. That's one favor though? Thought you had a few?"

"Just two, really." He chuckles low before leaning close. "If you could meet me in my office in three hours, then that would be fantastic."

"Three hours? That's when we take a lunch break."

He gives her a panty-dropping grin and then, "Exactly."

Emma does as she's supposed to when callers start asking to speak with Mayor Jones. She gives them the typical, "I'm sorry. He isn't available at the moment." Some leave a message, and others beg to speak with him. She's guessing those people aren't actually interested in anything business-related and she's surprised to feel a surge of something. It's a mixture of annoyance and jealousy.

She doesn't like it, but there it is.

* * *

Noon rolls around and her stomach growls. Her mind was too jumbled this morning to remember to grab lunch, so after putting her computer on sleep-mode, she walks (more like limps) the short distance to his office. When she knocks on the door, it's opened and two seconds later she's literally being pulled inside with a firm hand wrapped around her forearm.

"Did anyone see you?" he asks as she looks down at where he's gripping her. It doesn't hurt, not by any means, though she's shocked he hasn't yet let go. She shakes her head, barely registering the fact that he's asked her a question. "Good."

Killian leans in to kiss her as soon as the word leaves her lips and she's backing away thinking, _holy shit! _for two reasons: one, _he freaking tried to kiss her in the workplace! _And two, her sharp movement caused her to accidentally set her entire weight on her ankle. She cries out in pain and his eyes widen in what she briefly recognizes as concern before her own slam shut and she's cursing every swear word to man.

"Emma, what is it?"

"My ankle," she bites out, squeezing his arm to keep upright and not buckle to the ground like a two-ton boulder. "You were right, I twisted it."

"Here, let me help you." He wraps an arm around her waist and braces her against him, acting as though she weighs nothing. His eyes catch hers and his mouth lifts up at one side. "Clever girl."

"I'm sorry?"

"Using what happened yesterday to get closer to me."

"That's not what I was doing, but I…"

His gaze drifts over every inch of her face as she speaks, and she wishes it didn't faze her – that look (full of want, but soft somehow) that's causing butterflies and shooting warmth in between her legs – but it does and she really wants to just…no. No, she can't.

"I can't do this," she breathes, still keeping her eyes closed. "I'm sorry."

Hating the frown that immediately appears on his face, she closes her eyes. She hates this stupid rule. Loathes it, actually, but it's the smartest thing for her to do. The one thing that ensures she doesn't get caught up in an office romance and get heartbroken or worse, fired if Human Resources finds out, when it doesn't work between them.

Killian clenches his jaw, and walks close to her until he has her back resting against the wall. He places his hands on either side of her head. "Emma, look at me." She opens her eyes and slips her lower lip in between her teeth. He hears her sharp intake of breath. "May I ask why?"

"Why am I sorry?"

"Well, that too," he says with that lilt in his voice as he leans forward and nuzzles her neck and nearly causes her eyes to roll in back of her head at the mere act, "but you said you can't do this. Why can't you?"

"I'm sorry because…because I actually want to," He pulls back and his blue eyes look stormy and she can see desire looming in them. Before she can open her mouth to apologize again, he cups her face. "But I just got out of a long-term relationship, Killian, and it ended badly. And not only that, but isn't it some kind of rule that you can't fraternize with people you work with? We can't risk that! I might be into you, but I'd like to think I have some kind of control, but it's my first week, never mind my first _day_ on the job, Hook! You can't honestly think I – "

"So, I _was_ right that night," he says quietly, interrupting her and chuckling when she throws her hands up in the air.

Was that all he got out of that?!

His eyes are twinkling with amusement and she stifles the urge to roll hers. She bites her lip and nods, hating and loving in equal measure that the first thing she said was all he was able to latch onto. "You were."

"Emma," he tells her, while keeping his eyes locked on hers, imploring her to believe him, "One, I would never hurt you. Two, I would never do anything to jeopardize your position here. Or my own position."

She's known him for less than a month. And though her instincts tell her to run the other way, while screaming and never looking back, that she can't trust, let alone find it in her to love a man ever again after what Neal had done to her, she finds herself saying, "I believe you."

He smiles in response and, though she wants to return it, the corners of her mouth tip up sadly.

"And good. Because I don't do relationships with my co-workers…"

"Well, then, it's a good thing I'm not your co-worker," he answers quickly before pressing his lips to hers. She stands there, completely immobile for exactly three seconds before she thinks 'fuck it' and responds to his kiss. His lips feel so good against hers and when she tilts her head to deepen the kiss, he moans and it sends sparks down to her core.

_Holy hell, this guy can kiss! _

Her memory doesn't do the present justice. His hands weave into her hair and Emma wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer. When Killian presses his hips into Emma's her eyes snap open and she pushes him away.

"What's wrong?" he pants and she's shaking her head frantically, running her fingers through her hair. "Emma?"

"I…" she swallows thickly, avoiding his gaze and stepping aside him. She beelines for the door. Before she leaves he catches her by the elbow and she says, "I can't do this, _we_ can't do this. Not here."

"I'm not your co-worker, I'm your boss. No one in HR will find out about this, Swan, I can promise you." She's shaking her head again, wanting to believe him, but apparently she is an open book because he says, "you know we're good together. It's happening quick and I don't quite understand it myself, but I'm falling for you." She freezes, and he caresses the side of her face with a soft tenderness. "Emma."

"Hmm?" she asks, daring to look at him and taking the risk of melting into a puddle when their eyes meet.

"I should amend that statement," he laughs and pain lances through her. Did he not mean it? If so, then why the hell did he say it? Was he toying with her? "Stop."

"What?"

"You're thinking too much." She gulps and he smiles, and damn if it doesn't soothe the wound his words caused. "There's a very real possibility that I'm falling for you. You're a hell of a woman, and there's a blatant attraction I feel towards you that I don't want to fight."

She can't say or do anything other than stare at him as he continues.

"I don't want to frighten you, but I thought you should know. I'm perfectly fine with taking things however slow you want them to go, but…" His brows dip, and he looks like he's searching for his next works, "I believe the term you Americans use is, 'the ball is in your court?'"

He presses a kiss to her forehead and she's dazed when he leaves her to walk to the other side of the tiny room. He kneels, opens up his mini-fridge and grabs two sandwiches. "However, I must know if it's stealing the ball back to ask you to stay for the rest of our lunch hour? You ran out on me last time we ate together. I'd like to avoid that now."

"Okay," she mumbles, and takes a seat at his desk. Instead of sitting in his leather office chair, Killian sits in the one next to Emma's. He hands her a sandwich and she thanks him.

He talks and they both un-wrap their food. "So you've met Humbert and Smith. Humbert is a gentleman, both are harmless and quite friendly, but Smith likes to flirt. A lot. It took me more strength than I'd anticipated restraining myself from hitting the man."

"Looks like I'm not the only one with a jealous streak," she murmurs under her breath before taking a bite of her lunch.

"Did you say something, love?"

Emma swallows her food and then reaches for her cup. "I said, looks like I don't have to worry about my physique." She laughs nervously. "You know, because this is a spinach, tomato, and grilled chicken sandwich."

His eyelids narrow to slits, as though he isn't sure whether to believe her or not, he eventually nods. "I'm not a fan of fatty foods, though I used to be. My taste changed when my father passed away three years ago." He swallows back a bite of his lunch and then looks down. She has a feeling it's because he doesn't want her to see the sadness in his eyes. It's the same sadness that she saw three weeks ago when she asked about why the majority of people that know him call him Hook.

"You don't have to talk about it."

"We're getting to know each other, Emma." He smiles and then looks over at her. "I might not have to, but I'd like to. I want you to know who I am."

"And who are you?"

He holds his hand out to her, his eyes swimming with mirth. She rolls hers and doesn't extend her hand, but does give him a raised brow. "Killian Jones. I'm twenty-seven and I am the Mayor of New York City. I moved here from Poole when I was a young lad of three years old and then, my mother left my father. I'm still not entirely sure why, but she hasn't come back and I haven't gone looking."

"Wow, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he waves her off, acting like he doesn't care, but she can see that he does by the way his Adam's apple bobs thickly. "She missed out on the brilliant son she _didn't _raise."

"So, you moved here when you were a little boy, but you never lost the accent?"

His smile turns wolfish. "And risk my devilishly handsome looks being the only thing to capture your attention?"

She feels he cheeks blossom with heat and then he continues as though he never saw it. "You see, my father and I were the best of friends. But he was injured in a boating accident one summer not too long ago and he needed pills to help him get through the pain."

She nods. "Understandable."

"Emma, he needed a lot of pills."

"Oh…well, I'm sure you did whatever you could to help him."

That look that unnerves her enters his eyes again and he tells her, "those pills are the reason I received the nickname Hook."

What? "I don't understand."

"You see, he needed them to help him get through the pain…and then when the pain was gone, he still needed them."

His jaw is set, the muscles ticking and she frowns. "He got hooked."

"Aye, but it was my fault."

"Killian…you couldn't have known that was going to happen. It wasn't your fault."

"He would tell you otherwise, were he still around."

"Some people are more likely to get addicted than others. You can't blame yourself for that."

"My father didn't see it that way." He sits up straighter in his seat and checks his watch. Smiling sadly at her he says, "I didn't intend to spend this hour giving you my life story. It looks as though our hour is up, Emma."

She gives a small nod and stands to leave, but not before placing her hand on top of his. She can't imagine ever going through what he had. Hook is a name his father gave him. Since meeting him that night at the bar there'd be moments when she'd thought of him, and then she'd think about the possibilities why his nickname is what it is. And now that she knows, while a part of her pities his father for what had happened to him, another part of her wants to bring him back from the dead to scold him. How dare he blame his son for something he had no control over?

Killian keeps his hand where it is, save for his thumb that raises and rubs gently over her little finger. Quietly, he asks, "may I see you tonight?"

Her eyebrows jump and his lip twitches. "What happened to the ball being in my court?"'

"I've decided. I've stolen it back, and I'd like to see you tonight. When would you like me to pick you up?"

Laughing, she shakes her head and goes to leave. Her ex-boyfriend had never tried to charm her. He'd always given her cocky grins and sweet words, but with every word that Killian speaks and with every kind gesture he makes, it helps her to come quicker to her realization that what she had with Neal had only been a means to keep her close to his bed, and definitely out of his heart.

With Killian, she feels in the very core of her that he's being genuine.

"Emma?" His voice brings her out of her thoughts and she looks over her shoulder, and waits for him to continue.

"Time?"

Oh, yeah. He'd asked her out. "7 o'clock," she answers softly, "I'll leave my address before I leave for the day."

He flashes a smile her way and immediately her stomach erupts with those damn butterflies again. "As you wish."

* * *

**Thank you so, so much for reading! What did you think of Graham and Jefferson? I had fun writing those two, so we may end up seeing more of them. Next chapter will take place during their date! Reviews have about the same effect Hook's smile has. ;) See you next chapter! ~Kate**


	3. The First Date

**AN: Thank you to those who left reviews. Thanks so much to Sandra for beta'ing. Here's the third chapter! ~Kate**

* * *

What in the hell was she thinking? What in the hell was she thinking by doing exactly the thing she promised herself she wouldn't do?

She not only accepted a job from somebody she'd slept with – which is quite honestly asking for trouble – but then she agreed to go on a date with that same man.

Which led her to this moment, trying to figure out what the hell she's going to wear.

Emma is yanking every clothing item she has from her closet and throwing it onto her mattress that doesn't meet her Date Night requirements. Some are too professional, two are too…Ruby (she borrowed a skirt or two for clubbing a couple of years ago and Ruby insisted she keep them), a few are too _Neal's_ Emma (she doesn't even know that Emma any more, even though she disappeared only weeks prior), and the rest just aren't cutting it. She's ignoring the sound of her best friend's laughter, though it's getting harder the louder it grows.

"Will you shut the hell up?" she glares at Ruby.

Her friend slaps a hand over her mouth but a few annoying, albeit well-meaning giggles slip through her fingers. "Sorry." She steps into the bedroom while eyeing the pile of clothes. "I just saw flashes of color and figured either someone's got another interview, or a hot date tonight. My money's on the latter. It would explain the nerves."

Emma rolls her eyes and turns back to her closet. "You're not shutting up."

"Nope," Ruby answers, sliding her curious eyes to Emma. "Why are you nervous? You're never nervous."

She's aware. "You're still talking."

"Jesus, you're _really_ nervous!" Ruby gasps and claps excitedly. "Okay! Come on," she tugs on Emma's wrist and pulls her out into the hall and then into her room. "You're wearing something of mine!"

"If by 'something of yours' you mean, something so short my ass cheeks will hang out, I'll pass."

Ruby shoots her a mock-glare. "Now whose turn is it to shut up?"

Touché, best friend. Touché.

After five minutes of ruffling through Ruby's closet, they find the perfect outfit. Emma stands in front of the mirror and the two women stare appreciatively: Emma, at how she looks and Ruby, at her brilliant sense of style being proven. Ruby put her in a classic, little black dress with a hem that lies just above the knee with a neckline that dives to just the beginning of her cleavage. It isn't too revealing but she likes to think it'll peak his curiosity, and even though he's already seen what's underneath, it's still fun to play.

She wonders and doubts he's torturing himself with how he's going to look for her.

"You look hot!"

Emma's lower lip slips in between her teeth and she does a little twirl, actually feeling feminine and actually surprising herself by _liking_ it. She doubts this feeling will last more than the night but she won't try to suppress it. She feels good, and even she has to admit…she _looks_ good too.

"You think?"

"Hell yes!" Ruby squeals. "He's going to have trouble making it through dinner without wanting to tear your clothes off is what I think."

Emma nearly blushes at the compliment and then moves for her makeup bag as her best friend continues to speak but her words drown out. She always used to wear heavy eye shadow and eyeliner for Neal (he always loved it and she could never understand why – she always hated it). For some reason though something's telling her it's okay to hold back on the colors that make her feel like she's wearing clown makeup tonight. Instead she reaches for her makeup bag and instead of the dark, smoky look she decides on colors that will make the green in her eyes stand out.

She needs all the help with standing out against the mass volume of women out for the mayor's affections that she can get.

"EMMA!"

She jumps and whirls around. "What?"

"Have you heard anything I've said?"

"Clearly not if I'm asking."

"Well, I was saying that Mayor Jones is going to want to have his way with you and if he does, and trust me with what you've got on, he will…are you going to want to?"

"I don't think it's a matter of wanting to, it'll be a matter of if we actually will." She doesn't tell her they've already done the deed. When she asked for a pregnancy test, she let Ruby think it might have been Neal's instead of Killian's. Her thoughts begin to drift to the possibility of having a child with him but then she forces herself back to the conversation at hand. "Besides," she adds, "I slept with Neal on the first date and look where that got me."

"Well, not every guy is the same," Ruby says quietly. "I know I'm not the poster child for steady dating, but I do hope I find Mr. Right someday. I think if the Big Guy upstairs is presenting you with a seemingly decent one so soon after what a shitty one did to you… I think you should go for it. Don't close off your heart because one sleaze ball didn't know how to treat it."

And that, Emma thinks, is why Ruby Redding is her best friend.

* * *

There's a knock on her door at 7 o'clock on the dot and Emma's eyes snap to Ruby's.

Of course, her friend laughs and Emma merely glares at her. "Don't be nervous, you're fine."

"Says the girl _not_ going on a date with her boss." Emma stands from the couch and works out the kinks in her dress. "What if this is a big mistake? How do I know I'm not totally stepping in it by doing this?"

"You don't," Ruby smiles. "Life is all about risks. If you don't take any, what fun is –"

"My job is on the line. He promised he'd never do anything to hurt me, but I don't entirely know him well enough to know that he won't change his mind should this be a disaster and it doesn't work out."

"Well, it doesn't seem like you have any more time to think about it." Ruby walks to the door. "He's waiting." She opens it and there stands the mayor of New York City. Letting out a low whistle, she turns to look over her shoulder at Emma and says, "Are you sure you want him? I'd be happy to take him off your hands."

"Ah, but I like the hands I'm in, and these hands can't wait to wrap around Emma's waist tonight." Killian murmurs, and it's then that Emma loses control over her eyes as they snap to his. She feels her heart kick into overdrive, and she has to take a deep breath before she allows Ruby to let him inside their home.

"Holy shit," Ruby breathes and Emma feels her cheeks burn like they always seem to whenever he's around.

"Killian Jones," he tells Ruby, holding out his hand but never taking his sights off of Emma. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Ruby," she answers, watching his hand wrap around hers and then adds quickly, "Em, are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Emma whispers, taking a small step forward, grimacing at the way her ankle is still sore, though it quickly morphs into a smile that he pulls from her with one of his own.

Ruby heads into her room with a shake of her head and a breathy laugh, and once they're alone Killian closes the distance between them. "7 o'clock, you said."

"Yes, I did. You're right on time."

"I don't ever come a second sooner." His smile turns sideways, losing a bit of its boyishness and twisting into something wolfish and causing Emma's heart to nearly stop at the double meaning. He holds out his arm and says, "Ready, milady?"

"What did you mean when you said that you can't wait to wrap your hands around my waist?"

"What do you think I meant?"

"I think you're not going to get what I think you're looking for tonight," she answers sharply, dropping her hand from his bicep. "I might have that first night, but it isn't going to happen a second time. This is…_was_ supposed to be a date, though I don't even know why I agreed to it seeing how – "

"We both know why you agreed to it, Swan."

"No. I thought I agreed to it because I thought you were a good man, the fact that you are my boss aside, but apparently I was wrong. You're just like every other man, looking for an easy lay with pretty, empty words and promises." She goes to push him out, out of her apartment and her heart, when he grips the hand on his chest and curls his fingers around it and she'll be damned if it doesn't practically send her into cardiac arrest. "Let me go."

"Never," he says and she knows in that moment she's never heard a stronger promise in her life. Killian is the one to pull away from her, though his gaze drops to her lips before meeting her eyes and he says softly. "I was planning on taking you for a walk after dinner, Emma, nothing more," and because he just can't help himself, he adds with a small smile "at least, not tonight."

* * *

When their food arrives, Emma looks up from her dish at the feeling of Killian's eyes on her for what feels like the thousandth time that evening. They'd exchanged pleasant conversation, none of it including work – for obvious reasons – and are now discussing ideal vacation spots.

"I'm not entirely sure," he tells her, looking down at his food when she looks up, "I'd like to think the first place I would go is home, but then again, home isn't the same as it was when I was a young lad."

"Because of what happened with your father?"

He simply nods, and then says, "I'd much rather go to Barcelona, or Florence. Both are supposed to be stunning in the spring and summer months."

"Florence," Emma agrees, her tone light and she again smiles when he shoots her one. "I've never been to Italy."

"You'll have to make sure you go then."

"Guess I will."

"How's your meal, darling?" he asks her, his voice concerned though his eyes are twinkling, and Emma realizes she hasn't touched her food, that she's only really picked at it.

"It's fine," she shoots back with a small laugh, turning her focus to her still-full plate. "Honestly, it's kind of hard to eat right now."

"Why's that?" He asks that question with a knowing, sideways grin and she laughs again. "I'm curious."

"I'll bet you are." She takes a sip of her wine and grimaces. "I'm not much of a wine-and-dine girl, mind if I get a beer?"

"Of course." It's Killian's turn to frown. "You can have whatever you'd like, Emma. Don't make your choices based on what you think I would or wouldn't approve of."

Honestly she hadn't thought about it until he brought it up. And now that he has, she realizes that's exactly what she did when she ordered her drink. They get their waiter to come to them again and she orders what she really wants and when it comes, she instantly relaxes. Wheat ale is her favorite, and it's not the most expensive on the list, and she's pleased when he seems to relax to. Apparently her comfort results in his comfort, and now they can have a normal date.

* * *

"You know," Killian says as they walk through Central Park, "I've told you my story, but I don't recall you ever sharing yours."

"There's not much to tell." Emma shrugs and then feels her cheeks warm when Killian offers his arm. This time, she takes it. "Besides, I thought I was an open book?"

"You are, but I was hoping you could just explain yourself."

"Want me to skim?"

"No, I want you to read me each and every word."

Emma considers him for a moment, and knows he's telling her the truth. "I'm from a small town in Maine, I don't know if you've ever heard of it, but I was orphaned when I was three." She plows on, though she appreciates the brief glimpse of sadness in his eyes and loves that there isn't a trace of pity to be found. "I bounced around from foster home to foster home, and then when I was eleven, I was finally dealt a winning hand and found a family who seemed capable of putting up with me…until they found out they had their own baby on the way, and then off I went.

"I went to another foster home, but that only lasted a couple of weeks when I ended up in the hospital. Before I was admitted, I'd always be made to feel worthless, like shit and the scum of the earth. They used their kids for punching bags – myself included – and one night my foster dad broke my arm, but not before I was lucky enough to score this permanent reminder." She pulls her arm from his and points to the circular scar on the inside of her elbow.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Killian asks sharply, and gingerly takes hold of her elbow to examine the scar closer.

"_That_ is what happens when you forget to unload the dishwasher because you were trying to finish a science project." She stares at it and instantly the memory makes her eyes water. "I promised myself right then that I would get away from them, and I did. One of their sons tried to come with me, and he…"

"Easy, darling," Killian pulls her against his chest when she can't continue. One of his arms are stroking her back, and the thumb of his other is rubbing soothing circles over what is left from the cigar burn. "You don't have to tell me anymore."

"You didn't want the Cliff's notes version so there you go," she laughs shakily. "I'm okay now, he can't hurt me anymore."

"No, he can't," he says adamantly. "If I have my way, nothing will ever again."

She's about to ask how Killian can possibly promise that when a movement behind him catches her eye. "Who is that?"

Killian looks over his shoulder and as soon as he sees the woman mentioned, she watches his jaw tick and everything they'd just talked about is forgotten. She's tall, dark haired, and looking at them – well, more like at Emma -– as though she can't stand the very sight of her. "Someone who doesn't look too thrilled to see me."

"She's staring at me."

He shakes his head, "Maybe, but I don't want you to worry about her."

"Well, the fact that she's staring at us tells me otherwise. Do you know her?"

Instead of answering her, Killian merely tells her he'll be right back and walks away from her.

"I see you're having a nice time with that blonde, Killian," she hears the woman say, her voice a sneer, and watches as Killian pauses and then turns back around until he's facing Emma. He smiles encouragingly at her.

"Aye, I am."

"And have you forgotten about Milah so soon?"

"I've done nothing wrong. I'm single and permitted to see whomever I like." His gaze locks on hers and without waiting for her response, Killian walks away from Cora and returns to Emma's side, curling an arm around her waist and propelling them to the street to hail a taxi. He opens the door for her when it arrives and when she climbs in, he follows suit. The ride to her apartment is a quick one, thankfully.

"What was that about?" she asks him, though she already knows, she'd like him to feel comfortable to confide in her.

He smiles down at her and waves her off, helping her up the stairs so that she can't put her full weight on her ankle. "Just a nasty blast from my past, nothing you need worry about." It's the second time he's told her that and she can't help but feel a knot in her stomach and her sense of unease sky-rockets when he quietly adds, "I'll protect you from her."

"The fact that I need protection from an old woman is ridiculous," she scoffs, looking down at her hands and wondering if he's bought her bluff. "What could she possibly do to me?"

"Cora has her ways, Emma, and if you ever see her near your home, at work, or anywhere else, I need you to call me."

She looks up at him and sees that concerned gaze again, and it both melts her heart and frustrates her because she can take care of herself. She's always been self-reliant and that isn't about to change just because some good-looking, smooth-talking albeit kind and protective Fairytale-come-true guy promises her his vigilance.

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?" Confusion flashes over his face and it seemingly clicks with him. "You're in my life now, Swan. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you're safe."

"I can fend for myself."

"Aye, and I'm not denying your capabilities, but it would make me feel better to know for sure."

"Why?" she asks exasperatedly. "You don't owe me anything."

Dammit, she's hurt him and she can tell by the way his face falls when she utters those words. "This isn't about payback, Emma. This is about me wanting to take care of someone I care about."

"You don't know me, how can you care for someone you don't know?"

"I know you a little better after tonight."

She can't argue with that so instead, when they reach her door, she thanks him for dinner and goes to unlock her front door when his soft voice calls her name. Emma turns around and Killian takes a small step forward.

"I never took you dancing," he tells her with a smile. "Will you grant me another night to do so? This weekend would be nice. I know a place with great music."

"You want to sweep me off my feet, don't you, Mayor?" His eyes light up and he nods, causing her to laugh. "No drama?"

"No drama. Not a fan of the stuff, to be honest."

A few seconds pass before she gives her answer. "Well, if _I'm_ being honest, I'm not a fan of dancing considering that I _can't_, but –"

"Nonsense, everyone can dance they just need a good partner. And you were far from terrible, Emma." His eyebrows wiggle and she laughs, having to turn her eyes away because she has to be beet red with his suggestion. The only dance she likes to think she's good at is the horizontal tango, and his comment tells her he remembers perfectly.

"Well, anyway, I should probably go inside…"

"Aye, you and I both have to be up early for work tomorrow."

"About that," she says, and he steps closer to her, stealing her breath when he brings a hand to the side of her face and ghosting his thumb over her skin. "What are we going to do about work?" she asks breathlessly.

"We're going to be careful. I won't let you fight what we both want."

His gaze falls to her mouth and mindlessly her tongue slips out to run across her lower lip. Killian lowers his head to hers, slowly, as if testing the waters to see if she'll dive in. Without waiting for him to close the distance, Emma rises on her toes and meets him halfway, gently brushing her lips over his and gasping when his hand presses to the back of her head while the other wraps around her waist to pull her closer to him.

He presses her against the door and she wonders if Ruby is still home or if she's at the club or…or…god his mouth feels good. She stumbles to locate her key and finally manages to slip it through the lock. They stumble through the doorway and the next thing she knows the door's being slammed shut, she's untucking and unbuttoning his shirt and he's pulling off his jacket, the two of them unconsciously gravitating toward her bedroom.

His lips seal over hers again and he lifts Emma, wrapping her legs around his waist, knocking into the cherrywood table and they accidentally fall onto the mattress. Killian moves on top of her, never removing his mouth from hers while she goes to unzip his pants when he stills.

"Swan," he breathes against her lips, shimmying out of his clothes. "Emma."

"What?" she asks, reaching for the hem of her dress to slip out of it, when he grabs her wrist. "Something wrong?"

"You're not on the pill."

"Is that a problem? Don't you have a condom?"

"Aye. Please believe me when I say I wasn't planning on this happening," he chuckles, giving her another kiss that threatens to drown her in bliss. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping though…" he pulls away only to grab his pants and digs into the back pocket. "I wanted to be prepared. I hope you aren't angry with me."

"Hell no, I'm not angry." She crushes her mouth to his and this time he's the one to reach for the hem of her dress.

"You looked beautiful tonight," he pants, "but I'm more than thrilled to get to see all of you for a second time."

Killian begins to delight in her, settling in between her legs and he slips his hand in between the two of them. Emma shudders and he grins, working her a little more and when she's shaking under his touch, it's then that he sinks into her. "You feel bloody wonderful," he gasps when they connect and he starts to move.

"Ditto." Their fingers tangle together and he lifts them until they're at either side of Emma's head.

"Bloody _wonderful_..."

"Killian," she whispers, "stop talking." She leans forward and captures his kisses again, and he takes her to infinity, again and again until the first light of day begins to spill into the room.

* * *

For the last ten minutes, Emma and Killian are simply together, her legs tangled with his, her head resting on his chest while he strokes his fingers through her soft blonde locks, listening to the sounds of each other's breathing.

"That, love, was…"

"Bloody wonderful?" Emma asks, tilting her head up to look at him and when she sees his scowl she laughs.

His expression disappears, and morphs into a heartbreaking smile at the sound and he dips his head to press a kiss to her damp temple. "Such sass."

"For now," she mutters, "I'm going to need eight cups of coffee to survive work today." With barely any sleep, she's either going to chew someone's head off or pass out on her desk. "I should have thought this through a little more."

"Next time, I'll make sure to ravish you on a weekend." The promise makes her feel giddy, and then those feelings fade at the thought of how they're going to act at City Hall. "Don't worry, Emma, we'll make this fun."

"Make what fun?"

He gives her a quick kiss and then leans up on his elbow. "Pretending that we didn't just have a mind-blowing experience when we walk into work in a couple of hours."

When he gives her an I-told-you-so look, she rolls her eyes, grabs her pillow, and throws it over her face.

Whether or not it's only to Killian, she really is an open book.

* * *

Thirty minutes after the two of them split ways, Killian having intentionally entered City Hall ten minutes after Emma, she knows she can't postpone her coffee necessity any longer. She moves for the break room and as soon as she enters, she sees Jefferson and Graham each enjoying a cup of Joe.

Jefferson catches sight of her first and instantly a mischievous look sparks in his gaze. "Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

"Good morning, Emma," Graham waves.

"Morning." Emma pours a steaming cup of coffee into a Styrofoam cup.

"Someone looks exhausted." Jefferson.

"Yes, having little to no sleep usually results in looking like crap." She reaches for a small packet of sugar and stirs it in, not wanting to grab the plain cream and deciding on French Vanilla. As she rips open the sugar and it falls into the coffee, she feels someone step right alongside her.

"I didn't say you look like crap. I said you look exhausted." He smirks at her. "And I have a feeling I know why."

"Why?" she sighs heavily, doubting he could possibly know the reason for her lack of sleep….

Or maybe he can. He seems like the type to be an expert on running on fumes. Jefferson Davis seems like a ladies' man, going long nights on little sleep, but not having any regrets about it and surviving long hours exactly as she is: on a _shit ton _of coffee.

"You got it on last night." He nudges her playfully and she can see Graham sigh and shake his head at his friend out of the corner of her eye and Jefferson waves him off. "You've got that essence about you, and you still have a little bit of smeared lipstick right…" he reaches up and swipes his thumb over the corner of her mouth to remove it, "here."

Someone clears their throat, loudly, and all heads snap toward the direction it came from.

"Good morning, Mayor Jones," Jefferson smiles, looking completely unaffected by what has just happened.

"What, may I ask, is going on in here?" Killian asks, looking from Emma, to Jefferson and right back to Emma.

"Nothing, just being friendly." Her co-worker beams and Graham politely excuses himself from the situation.

Smart man.

"By placing your hands on my secretary's mouth?" She chews on her lip to keep from smiling at the possessive way he says the word _my,_ but when she fails, she continues fixing her coffee the way she likes it.

"Sir, she had something on it. I was merely helping a friend out."

"Then you give her a napkin," he snaps. "Need I remind you of the fraternizing rule?"

"No, Mayor. I know the rule well."

She knows Killian is pissed, but she sees his blue eyes lighten a bit, and only enough for her to be able to tell. "Good. Davis, you're a good man and I don't want to lose you because of hobnobbing."

"No, sir." He smiles. "You won't."

"I better not. Carry on." Killian turns to exit but not before giving Emma a lingering look that lasts just a moment longer than necessary. When he's gone, the surrounding area feels empty, even though there are still two people occupying the small room.

Emma spins around to keep herself busy, hoping to erase the blush that heats her cheeks before Jefferson can see it.

"Holy shit." His smile turns audible as his lips spread wider and a laugh pours from them.

"What?" she asks, hoping to sound indifferent, but worrying he's seen the look Killian gave her and the blush that's still burning her face.

"I knew you got laid last night, but don't think I didn't catch the way he pressed the word 'my,' or the look he gave you."

_Shit_, she thinks_. _This is not good.

"Looks like our proper Mayor is a world-class hypocrite."

* * *

**AN: Holy hell, Jefferson knows! This chapter was SO. MUCH. FUN. to write and I'm thrilled to have been able to post it before OUAT comes back THIS SUNDAY! Who's excited to see Killian win Emma over all over again? We all know she can't resist that accent or those pretty blue eyes, or that charm (the list goes on and on, and we all know it). Thanks for reading & please review! They make my CaptainSwan-shipping heart happy! ~Kate**


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